Your last letter sure was a gas! Where do you come up with this stuff(!)? I admit, I can’t stand you, but your insights are as amusing as they are poorly observed. Perspicacious would be the word I would use to describe someone that was the antithesis of you. Nevertheless, I’m glad we stay in touch. Where would I be without you (in all existential sincerity)?
In other news, I’ve been severely depressed all day. I slept poorly. Between the hours of 3 A.M. and 11 A.M. I was plagued by vivid, unending night terrors. Ten-story-tall giants that spoke a vaguely Germanic language were endeavoring to smash me with truncheons. They chased me through every house I’ve ever set foot in, until I finally happened upon the tree house of a childhood friend, perched atop an eleven-story tree. Barely, I escaped the giant squid of a monster’s groping hand. Inside I found a nest of hungry baby pterodactyls. Promptly, the mommy pterodactyl returned and plucked my eyes out with her beak in rapid succession. As the scalding pain whirlwinded from my cowlick to my soles, I fell from the tree house into the giants’ sinister grasp. Then I died.
Just kidding I can’t remember my dreams. I may have dreamt something like that, possibly.
I am a shade down though. If I could ever according-to-plan, I would be on my way to Moogfest in North Carolina right now instead of wallowing in my boredom gully writing to you (bittersweet, I know). My friend Kyle Kraig lives nearly near the concert locale. We were going to go together. Unfortunately, my parents deemed me ill-fit to drive the twenty-four hours over the course of forty-eight hours alone. I suppose it’s warranted, given my penchant for shenanigans, non-blinkering, and driving while thinking about everything but driving.
On the other hand, today was pristine, heavenly convertible weather, and I feel like a crap friend. Whenever we had sleepovers at his house, Kyle would artfully craft a bed out his overabundance of throw-pillows for me. We played Little League together. He is a titan of pick-up basketball and he deserves better. Hopefully, I will live long enough to make it up to him. Contrite is the word I would used to describe me as the anti-antithesis of me.
X’s and O’s,
P.S. Are you still being Everything for Halloween?